


You Know

by Stormfet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Development, Gen, character backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormfet/pseuds/Stormfet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short piece exploring a little bit of what's going on inside Captain Phasma's mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Captain Phasma has intrigued me as a character since star wars so I decided to write a little piece exploring the tip of the iceburg of her backstory. I may continue to explore her character, but for now I'll just stick with this. No romance, just pure character development.

You know when they’ve ripped the parents you’ll never know from you at an age you can barely remember them leaving. You’ve been left with your squadron, young boys who shoot blaster fingers at each other and pretend to be General Snoke and evil Jedi, shooting down the soldiers of confinement and order.

You know when your only friends are boys, and when you are forced to cut your long blonde hair regulation short so you match the others, when they line you up to salute to the General and you get stares from the other boys and you look to the ground, cheeks burning, to avoid looking at the others. You wonder why there is no one like you.

You know when you go through school and you learn about how the evil Rebellion destroyed the greatest weapon ever created. You know when you learn about Luke Skywalker and how in order for peace to be restored in the Galaxy Skywalker must be destroyed, because the only voice of peace is the General.

You know when your body begins to grow before the boys, when you shoot up a head taller than they do. You know when you are handed a gun for the first time and you shoot the target dead center. The others look at you, but you simply stand and salute to the General. 

You know when you can recite the pledge of the First Order by heart, and the rest of your squadron, and nobody else can. And your heart pounds with pride when your squadron leader barely smiles, only a hint of emotion that they have swirling underneath. But you don’t smile and brag. You stand at the ready, awaiting command.

You know when you wake up one morning from your regulation bunk and the grey sheets are stained red, breath coming in a gasp but you know that your death is all in the plan the General has laid out, so you lay back and wait for the blackness to come. But it never does.

You know when the rest of your squadron catches up to you, that they shoot a few inches taller than you do, when they can run faster easier, lift heavier with no effort. So you put in four times the effort they do to be twice as good. Shoot your gun. Lift the weight. Push your legs. Faster. Harder. Stronger.

You know when it’s your first battle and you’re raiding a Republic controlled area for information. When your squadron leader tells you to shoot down the enemy, you raise your gun and you pull the trigger, people falling easier than targets. You stand and salute the General. This is the only way peace will reign.

You know when you take off your helmet at the end of the night and look at your blonde regulation cut hair and your blue eyes and your face that is softer and rounder than your squad mates, and you take off your armor to reveal the binds you wear on your chest. You know when you see your body, smaller and slighter but strong and hard from years of practice. And you know when you can lift like they can, shoot like they can, run like they can, kill like they can. You are no different than they are. Than we are.

You know when you stumble upon an old yacht and you discover armor stronger than the white regulation, and you sneak it home, working on it late into the night to make a suit. You know when you wear it into battle and your squadron nods, when you raise your hand to direct them into battle because strategy has been something you’ve worked at and learned and you know where to put a soldier, why and when. You know exactly how many deaths are needed to win the battle. Because peace is not an easy thing to achieve.

You know when they give you the rank of captain and suddenly you are the squad leader and they look to you to direct them and you are no longer a piece of the machine you run the machine. The machine for peace.

You know when you glance in your reflection on the side of the ship about to head into battle, and you don your silver helmet to hide your round and soft face and your blue eyes and your regulation-cut blonde hair. With the helmet comes equality. With equality comes peace.


End file.
